Supermoto

We Sent A Writer To Learn To Ride Supermoto (Or Die Trying)

As I arrive at AMP some Hollywood stuntmen are squealing around the track in a synchronized cacophony of modified Nissans, BMWs and Toyotas, practicing their moves. It’s like a drifting ballet. The smell of burnt rubber is thick in the air, and redolent.

Supermoto was created in 1979 for television as a hybrid motorcycle sport that plucked the best elements of the three most popular racing series — road racing, flat track and motocross — and combined them into one gnarly dirt-and-asphalt spectacular. The idea being to invite the best racers from each discipline, and have them battle on even ground. Or rather, very uneven ground — with the hazards and benefits of each. A two-wheeled all-star race, if you will. With the speed of street racing, the jumps of motocross and the powerslide style of flat-track racing, supermoto is a unique challenge not to be taken lightly.

This is how it normally goes down: You get a call that asks if you want to take part in motorcycle training school — in this instance, supermoto, that motorsport that takes the best of dirt biking and fuses it with the best of street racing. At first, the natural instinct is to jump on the offer. Hell yeah, of course — why would you not want to brush up on your (very rudimentary, and rusty) motorcycle skills, and maybe learn how to trail slide in the process? Sounds like a no-brainer.

But then you hang up the phone, and the mind starts wandering. The high-octane, Jason Bourne-like stunts fade into the rear lobe, and more practical thoughts start bubbling up. You know, like the actual danger. Like how, in every motorcycle class ever taken, someone eats asphalt. That’s a given. And how, when you fall on a motorcycle, the damage can range from a stinger on your elbow to a broken wrist. From a thigh that looks like pizza to a compound femur.

You start thinking about the pain. And then you remember you don’t even have health insurance. It is these thoughts that take center stage during the long drive from Los Angeles to the Adams Motorsports Park, a small ribbon of rubber-streaked blacktop and patchy dirt surrounded by chain-link fence. It sits about an hour outside of downtown on theoutskirts of Riverside County, right where the acreage of warehouses begins transitioning into empty desert lots. As I arrive at AMP, some Hollywood stuntmen are squealing around the track in a synchronized cacophony of modified Nissans, BMWs and Toyotas, practicing their moves. It’s like a drifting ballet. The smell of burnt rubber is thick in the air, and redolent. For some reason, this makes my stomach do another anaconda grip.

I start thinking about the asphalt, and how hard it is. I’m not in my 20s anymore — falling down on pavement in a motorized vehicle is gonna hurt. Then my friend Matt pops into my head. Visiting me from New York, he showed up at my door with his dislocated shoulder in a sling — the collateral damage of a simple snowboarding fall. At my age, you're not supposed to be starting out sports like supermoto; you’re supposed to be retiring from them.

Lucky for me, the man organizing this outing, Mark Buche, is prepared for my fragile psyche with a full suite of protective equipment. I quickly slip on the Dainese leather and mesh Air Frazer pants and jacket, already outfitted with a spine-saving back brace and Kevlar knee and elbow pads. I pull on Dainese boots, carbon fiber-fitted gloves and an AGV helmet. I suddenly look like Venom with the $2,000 protective exoskeleton encasing my soft, irresilient flesh. I may ride like Gary Busey, but at least I’ll look like Travis Pastrana. I feel a little better, and ready to go.

Brian Murray founded his SoCal Supermoto School in January 2010, against the advice of many friends. Their pessimism was understandable: At the time, supermoto had been dropped from the X Games and there were many who declared the sport in its death throes. But supermoto has since seen a grassroots resurgence, with three different racing series running, loaded with grids of eager riders.

“I love supermoto, and I figured if I loved it, there’s gonna be other people that love doing it,” explains Murray of what made him open shop. “I was working with a lot of new riders, and I realized the only way I could teach them more was to get them to a racetrack. In supermoto, the speeds are a little lower, and the bikes give excellent feedback, so they’re really good training tools. On top of that, it’s just insanely fun.”